The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1887-12-04

! walk, the images began to come clearer and
| stay longer IN his fancy; and next the power of
| thought came back to him, and the horror and
| danger of his situation rooted him to the
| ground.
| He grasped his forehead and staring on one
| spot of gravel, pieced together what he knew
| and what he suspected Alan had murdered
| some one, possibly that man" against whom
| the butler chained the door in Regents terrace.
| possibly another; some one, at least a human
soul, whom 1t was death to STAY and whose
| blood lay split upon the floor. This was the
reason of the whisky drinking in the passage of
| his unwillingnesS to welcome John of his
| strange behavior and bewildered words. tbis
was why he had started at and harped upon the
name of murder; this was why he had stood and
hearkened, or sat and covered his eyes in the
black night And now he was gone, he
had basefully fed; and to all his perplexities
and dangers John stood heir.
Let me think-let me think he said aloud
impatiently, pleadingly, as if to some mer-
CHESS interrupter. In the turmoil of his wits a
thousand hints, and hopes, and threats and
like plunged in the hubbub of a crowd How
was he to remember-he. who had not a thourht
to spare-that he himself the author, as
well as the theater, of so much confusionl But
in hours of trial the junto of mans nature is
dissolved, and anarchy succeeds.
1t was plain he must stay no longer where he
was, for here was a new judicial in the
very making 1t not so plain where he
must go. for the old judicial error, vague as a
cloud, appeared to fill the habtab1e world;
whatever it might be, it watched for him. full
grown, in Edinburgh; it must have had its birth
in San Francisco; it stood guard, doubt, like
dragon, at the bank where he should cash his
credit; and though there were doubtless many
other places, who should say in which of them
it not ambushed2 No, he could not tell
where he was to go; he must not not lose time
on these insolubilities. Let him go back to the
beginning. 1t was plain he must stay no longer
where he was. 1t was plain. too, that he must
not flee as he was, for he could not carry his
portmanteau and to flee and leave it was to
plunge deeper in the mire He must go, leave
the house unguarded, find cab. and return
return after an abSencel Had he courage for
thatl
And just then he spied stain about hands
breadth on his trouser-leg and reached his fin
ger down to touch it. The finger stained
red it was blood; he stared upon it with disgust,
and awe. and terror. and in the sharpness of the
new sensation, fell instantly to act.
He cleansed his finger in the snow, returned
into the house, drew near with hushed footsteps
to the dining room door. and shut and locked it.
Then he breathed little freer. for here at least
was an oaken barrier between himself and what
he feared. Next, he fastened to his room, tore
off the spotted trousers which seemed in his
eyes link to bind him to the gallows. flung
them in a corner, donned another pair. breath
lessly crammed his night things into his port
manteau. locked it. swung it with effort from
the ground and with rush of relief came forth
again under the open heavens.
The portmanteau, being of occidental build
feather weight; it had distressed the
powerful Alan; and as for John, he crushed
under its bulk, and the sweat broke upon him
quickly. Twice he must set 1T down to rest be-
fore he reached the gate; and when he had come
so Tar he must 90 as Alan Qld, and take his seat
upon one corner. Here, then. he sat awhile and
painted; but now his thoughts sensibly
hghtened; now. with the trunk standing just in
side the door, some part of his dissertation from
the house of crime had been effected, and the
cabman need not pass the garden wall 1t was
wonderful how that relieved him; for the house,
in his eyes. place to strike the most cur
sorry beholder with suspicion, though the very
windows had cried murder.
But there was to beno remission of the strokes
of fate AS he thus sat. taking breath in the
shadow by
rows it CHANGED that his eye roved to the fast
ening of the door; and what he saw plucked him
to his feet. The thing locked with a spring;
once the door closed the bolt shot of itself;
and without key, there was no means of enter
ing from without.
He saw himself obliged to one or two dis
tasteful and perilouS alternatives: either to shut
the door altogether and set his portmanteau out
upon the waysde, a wonder to all beholders or
to leave the door ajar, that any thievish tramp
or holiday school-boy might stray in and stumble
on the grisly secret To the last. as the least
desperate, his mind inclined; but he must first
insure himself that he was unobserved. He
peered out, and down the long road; it lay dead
empty. He went to the corner of the by-road
that comes by way of Dean; there, also, not a
passenger was stirring. Plainly it was now or
never the high tide of his affairs; and he drew
the door as he burst, slipped pebble in
halfway down a gate opened and troop of
Christmas children sailed forth in the most
cheerful humor followed more soberly by a
smiling mother.
And this is Christmas day." thought John;
and could have laughed aloud in the tragic bit
terness of his heart
CONCLUDED NEXT SUNDAY